It was just one of the many mysteries of getting older, along with male pattern baldness, midlife crises, and erectile dysfunction. Peter’s dad had recently admitted that even at the age of fifty-two, he sometimes woke up with the absolute certainty that he was only twenty-four, with his whole life still spread out before him like an untouched Thanksgiving dinner. But it turned out that wasn’t how it worked at all.

As a little kid, Peter had figured that once you reached a certain age, somebody just handed you all the knowledge you’d need in order to be an adult.

The thought had never crossed his mind, that a teacher might be jealous of a student. If I had to do what he does every year, I’d probably end up hanging myself in a supply closet or something.” And he’s stuck in this shit school teaching the same shit history over and over again. “You have all this potential, you know? Like your whole life in front of you. She did have great hair, though-a shoo-in for best in school, when yearbook time came around-long and latte brown, the same smooth, glossy texture as a basketball jersey. Peter had never understood why she did that maybe she’d seen it in a shampoo commercial or something. ” She flipped her hair to one side of her head, then back again. They’d already been talking about this for fifteen minutes, which, in Peter’s experience, was about fourteen minutes longer than his girlfriend liked to talk about any serious subject. He’d been staring vacantly at the sky, replaying his brief conversation with Mr. “IT’S NOT THE END OF the world,” Stacy said.

We all looked up